


Love and a .45

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Borderline Yandere, F/M, Female Reader, Overprotective, Possessive Behavior, Romance, Slow Build, Tags will be added as necessary, be warned, idk - Freeform, like damn mccree chill, lots of Spanish, real world past events in a fictional world, smut probably later on, young! jesse mccree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 13:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7534906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Inspired by the movie, Love and a .45.)</p><p>Orphaned and angry, the notorious Deadlock Gang took Jesse in, unlike the rest of the children who fought back against them. Now working in an large auto shop, which imports thousands of illegal products into the country, Jesse manages to avoid trouble with the law for quite some time. </p><p>That is, until, he met you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and a .45

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I apologize for using abrasive and insulting language in this fanfic, but I felt that it was necessary to convey the intensity of the characters.
> 
> For my non-spanish-speaking readers, here's a list of the terminology used in this story. I am not incredibly fluent but I know enough to have a conversation. If a spanish-speaking reader feels the need to correct me, then please do comment below the correct spelling/phrasing.
> 
> Te voy a matar!-I'm going to kill you!  
> Eres un estúpido? Contéstame, baboso!-Are you stupid? Answer me, retard!  
> Pendejos/as-Assholes  
> Mira-Look  
> Gabacho/a- A nasty word for an American.  
> Borracho- Drunkard  
> Manzana Roja- A fictional cigarette brand created by Quentin Taratino. Otherwise know as "Red Apple Tobacco."  
> Gringo- A person of white skin color.  
> Mami- A degrading slang word referring to women.

_"Te voy a matar!"_

_"Eres un estúpido? Contéstame, baboso!"_

I didn't answer. It was simpler just to let Emilio and Mateo knock me around a bit and then leave me be than argue with them. I mean, I was a kid then. Still legally couldn't buy a pack of cigarettes or a bottle of whiskey, but that sure didn't stop me. I usually was against drinking at work, but with those two _pendejos_ running the place a shot never hurt anyone.

" _Mira, gabacho_ ," Emilio pushed his finger into my chest. "You see this paint job? _Mira!_ "

Oh I saw it. I saw it every day of my life since I was no longer a street rat. The 1997 Mazda RX-7 was used in the filming of Fast and the Furious, and Emilio treasured the thing since he stole it from some rich bastard a few years back. Could have been an antique, except he coated the whole thing with a sky blue color with black details. Stripped the insides, gave it a new stereo system.

I nicked it while carrying some supplies into the store up front, just on the edge, barely noticeable. But the sound was loud and obvious, and when Emilio heard it, he knew his baby was in danger. Mateo was equally upset, if Emilio up and got himself killed- he'd be the one to take it under his wing.

So I wasn't too surprised to have two Mexicans up in my face, spit flying everywhere.

"You're gonna pay for this, _gabacho_. _Comprendes?_ " 

"Yes," I said, rubbing my shoulder from where Mateo jerked me. 

Emilio leaned in closer and sniffed my face. Then he muttered, _"Borracho."_

They watched me as I grabbed the box of parts and brought them to the front. Some man called earlier asking if we had any left over parts from our last scrapping. Now he's been on hold for at least 6 minutes while the _pendejos_ kicked me around.

But, to my surprise, he was still on the other end. He was patient, I give him that. 

"Yeah I got a box of parts here, a lot of them are kinda rusted anyway. You can have them if you want them, but I gotta ring you up still."

"Oh that's fine, how much you think?"

"Well, what are you looking for?" I reached into my pocket, and looked for my cigs. And sure enough, one last _Manzana Roja_ fell out of the carton.

"Not sure, but how much would the box cost? Like the whole thing."

"I'd say 2...." I lit my cigarette. "$250, for all of it. I mean, these parts are absolute shit. Pardon my language."

"That doesn't matter, I'll send someone by."

I flipped open the notebook, and reached for a pen, "And your name?"

He told me his name and thanked me for all the trouble. Then he hung up and I leaned back in my office chair. Nothing like doing nothing all day but smoke and drink and occasionally do some math and swindling. Maybe flirt with a pretty woman who has no idea what she's looking for, or chat up one who does. 

But hardly anyone comes into this auto shop unless their looking for Mateo or Emilio or anyone else from the Deadlock Gang. Most people know the deal, and have learned to stay away. An auto repair shop is the perfect place to hide trucks filled to the brim with illegal weapons or coke or whatever else. Emilio and Mateo just managed the shop, the big guys in the Deadlock Gang were out in the canyon somewhere. I knew them. They were just like Emilio and Mateo: _Pendejos._ Except these guys were _Pendejos Grandes_.

I was flipping through a dirty magazine that Emmanuel purchased some time ago. But it was all boring. Boring women in boring lingerie in boring poses. The naughty blondes and the seductive brunettes, all with arrogant, teasing faces. That wasn't my style. I wanted tears and red marks and eyes that begged me to stop-

"Busy?" the voice scared me shitless. I grabbed the magazine and pushed it under the counter. A girl smiled and stared up at me, with a knowing look. She apparently managed to enter the place without ringing the bell. After a few moments, the girl said, "I believe my dad called you earlier. Asked for a box of parts."

"Oh? Oh! Yeah, here it is," I slapped the side of the box and she dug into her wallet for cash. I counted it out and intentionally neglected to inform her that she had given me an extra $20. She didn't seem to care. 

"Do you need help carrying it out to your car?"

"What? Oh, no, I don't have a car," she grabbed the box, and smiled. "Thank you."

"Wait, what do you mean you don't have a car?" I asked, leaning forward.

"Just what I said," she said. My brow scrunched.

"There isn't a house for miles."

"I mean, I walked here."

"And you plan on walking back with a huge box of metal?"

"Exactly."

"No," I jumped the counter and walked to the front of the store. I grabbed our sign and wrote "one hour" next to the neatly printed "Returning in."

"What are you doing?" she asked, her arms already looking a bit weak from the box. I managed to lift her box onto my shoulder and walked to the back of the garage, where she followed like a confused dog.

"Excuse me?" she said.

I knocked on the garage office window, "Mateo, I'm taking the car out, want anything?"

_"Manzanas Rojas."_

"Two packs, _gabacho!_ "

I set the parts in the back seat of the old, beat up Civic '96. I climbed into the front and waited for her to get in.

"What are you doing?" she asked again.

"I'm giving you a ride."

"Oh no, you don't have to do that," she said nervously.

"I don't bite, I'm just trying to do something nice. It'd be a crime to let you walk out in this heat. So get in."

She shuffled a bit before climbing into the front seat. I grinned a bit and started the car, begging that it turned over. After the second try, the old thing managed to get going. I turned the AC on blast, and she sighed and said a small, meek thank you.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Jesse McCree. Whichever you wanna call me that works. The people around these parts call me _garacho_ or _gringo_ ," I said, backing up out of the garage.

"Bye bye mami!" called Mateo from inside the office, blowing kisses to the girl. She looked repulsed. Good on her for recognizing an asshole when she sees one.

"What does that mean?" she asked, looking at me. It took me a second to know what she was talking about.

"American, white boy. The usual. Your name?"

"Hmmmm..... Huh? Oh it's ________," she said. "Ummm.... Thank you, again for doing this."

"Oh it's no problem darlin'," I grinned. When we got ourselves righted, I looked both ways down the long and empty road and asked, "So left or right?"

She pointed to the left, towards the diner. I frequented the establishment but the food tasted like shit and the coffee was the same consistency as motor oil.

I turned on the radio. It was on the hard rock channel, so I just left it. ________ seemed really into most of it. Head bobbing slightly, leg bouncing. It was kinda cute. She looked nervous, and I could understand. Last time someone offered me a ride, I was thrust into a life of criminals and thieves. However, I couldn't help but feel a bit hurt(if not offended) at this notion, because I was nothing like the men who ruined my life.

"Oh take a right up here, it should be on the left," she said, leaning forward.

"This may be a strange question.... But do you know of the auto shop?"

"You mean the fact that hundreds of pounds of drugs go through it? Yeah, I know of it...." she said, her hand gripping the seat. She was smart. Playing dumb in this town didn't get anyone anywhere. It was better to admit you know than pretend you don't. The sheriff knew, the governor knew. There wasn't anything anyone could do without getting an eyeful of pulse ammunition. She looked at me and said, "You're a Deadlock Member."

I laughed a little, and that made her uncomfortable, "No.... I wouldn't consider myself one of those.... They took me in when I was kid, fed me. That's about it. I don't owe them anything but to work up front and pretend that nothing is wrong."

"So you _are_ in the Deadlock Gang," she said.

I gave her a look, "I suppose...."

She laced her fingers together, "My cousin was killed by the Deadlock Gang. I loved them a lot...."

"I.... I'm sorry.... I'm not like them. I'll never be like them...." I said, gripping the wheel.

She sighed, "No, I-I'm sorry.... I shouldn't have just pushed the blame onto you...."

"I did that too at first, but I just learned to get over it...." I leaned over and cautiously placed a hand on her back. She stiffened but smiled at me.

"If you ever....need anything," I said, trying my best to sound comforting. "I'm always at the shop. Just call, or come see me...."

________ smiled, "Thanks.... Jesse, right?"

And I smiled back, "Jesse McCree, at your service."


End file.
